Say It Anyway
by DolbyDigital
Summary: Sometimes words don't need to be spoken. You both know the words that are about to be said; that they will hurt, that they are unnecessary, or that they just aren't true. Sometimes, you say them anyway. /Warnings and pairings inside./


**A/N** – Warnings for slight Cousincest right at the end (though nothing explicit). Pairings are Teddy/Victoire, Teddy/James II and James II/Victoire.

* * *

She denied her dad's offer of help, but she's seriously regretting it now as she struggles to pull her trunk onto the train. She can't wait until she's seventeen. It's just a few more months, but that doesn't really help her now.

She doesn't notice him until she hears an amused chuckle behind her.

"Need a hand?"

He's grinning, completely impervious to her best glare, and easily takes the trunk from her without waiting for an answer.

It's as he's getting ready to leave the train that she realises she's not going to be seeing him until Christmas, at the earliest.

"Teddy, wait."

He turns, only managing to give her a slightly confused smile before she's kissing him, and thing might have gone well - _he was kissing her back_ \- if it wasn't for the wordless yell from her idiot cousin.

They both pull away - Teddy as if she were on fire; Victoire a more reluctantly - and regard the red-faced teenager.

"I-I was just... seeing Victoire off..."

Victoire could feel her face heating up at James' disbelieving scoff.

"Go away, James," Teddy's somehow managed to forget his embarrassment in the face of the gawking teenager, and she's not really surprised when James instantly runs off - though it's more likely that his sudden departure was from a desire to tell everyone what he had seen than as a result of anything Teddy could have said.

The silence stretches between them once James has left, quickly becoming awkward. She finds herself straightening her skirt just so she has something to do with her hands.

Teddy is the first to break it, though she wishes he hadn't.

"Vic..."

She doesn't need to hear what he's going to say, she knows probably before he does.

She can see it in his face.

He can see it in hers.

He says it anyway.

* * *

"So how come you aren't dating Vic anymore?" James blurts out from across the dining table. They're the only two in the house – Lily and Al off buying supplies for their second and third years respectively. James had opted out.

His mum had his list.

And Teddy had said weeks ago that he'd be getting back from his trip today.

He hadn't wanted to miss that.

"I was never dating Vic," Teddy finally replies after a pause long enough that James had almost forgotten the original question.

Almost.

"Yes you were. I saw you kiss her."

"That was..."

"What?" But Teddy's gone bright red and he won't look up from the table.

James won't be getting any more out of him on this subject.

"So who are you dating?"

Knowing something won't happen and giving up on trying to make it happen don't necessarily occur together.

James had always been stubborn.

"Give it a rest, James," Teddy's head was in his hands, covering his face, but James could still clearly picture the exasperated expression underneath all the embarrassment.

"C'mon, Teddy. Just answer the question." The tone of his voice is pretty whiney – he's reached a level of whinging that even he finds annoying, but it's a tone that's always worked well on Teddy for some reason.

"I haven't got a girlfriend."

"That's not what I asked."

The silence that follows is heavy at best. Crushingly awkward for Teddy would probably be a better description.

James is only mildly curious.

"I... No. I'm not dating anyone."

"Why not?"

"James..."

"Is there someone you want to-"

"That's enough!" And Teddy is yelling.

Teddy never yells.

Not at James, at least.

He doesn't understand what just happened, but he knows what's coming.

Teddy knows this.

Knows that James won't be able to fully understand.

He says it anyway.

* * *

In true Weasley fashion, everyone else in the room seems to be either completely oblivious or ignoring the issue.

After managing to successfully avoid Teddy so far, they somehow wind up literally walking into each other in the doorway between the kitchen the living room. They each try to move past the other, but it's like their feet have been stuck to the ground, which – judging from the smirk on her Uncle George's face and the mistletoe hanging from the doorframe – is probably what has happened.

She pecks him on the lips – there's a catcall from the general direction of the kitchen followed quickly by a hissed shushing sound which Victoire tries resolutely to ignore – and tries to leave, but Teddy seems to have other plans.

He grabs onto her wrist, and she can tell from the look on his face that she's not going to like what he's about to say.

She wonders why even needs to say it.

Hopes he doesn't.

"Listen..." he begins, and she's not having this a second time.

She doesn't want him to have the satisfaction of saying it.

She knows it's petty.

And that this is hard for him, too.

She says it anyway.

* * *

Teddy should be arriving any minute for Lily's seventeenth birthday. James isn't sure why he's meeting them here and flooing to The Burrow with them rather than heading straight there, but there was no way he was going to complain.

The sound of feet charging up the stairs distract him momentarily from his work – Lily's been running back and forth from the living room to her bedroom all morning, and it's driving him insane.

The tentative knock is new, though, and before he's even fully registered it Teddy bursts into his room. James has only a brief moment to wonder why he even bothered knocking in the first place before Teddy is speaking, though it takes him several beats longer to actually start listening.

"-your mum's wondering when you'll be moving out, y'know, since you got that job. Seems to think you plan on living here forever."

"I plan to sponge off of my parents somewhat grudging generosity for as long as possible," he doesn't even look up from his textbook to reply, just underlines a small passage and turns the page.

Teddy snorts, but doesn't bother responding verbally.

"So where're you working now?" James tries in a desperate attempt to draw the conversation away from himself.

"Nothing as fancy as you. 'M not saving lives or anything," James barely restrains the eye roll. "I pick up a couple shifts at The Three Broomsticks every now and then. Work for George part time, too. 'M heading down to the Dragon Reserves over summer."

"Romania?" James can feel his face paling as he finally looks up from his book.

Teddy's nodding, completely oblivious, a half-smile on his face as he goes on and on about his upcoming trip, sounding more like Uncle Charlie than James had realised anyone could.

He supposes he must at least look like he's paying attention – either that, or Teddy's just so into what he's talking about that he hasn't noticed – and on some level he is noticing how obviously excited for this Teddy is, but...

But he doesn't want him to go.

"Stay."

And they both know what is coming.

Teddy's gearing up to say something, but the words aren't coming.

And if James doesn't say anything, they just might never come.

But he remembers the look of excitement.

He knows it will hurt.

He says it anyway.

* * *

Somehow, they wind up living together. Neither's sure how, only that he needed a place to stay and she needed a new roommate.

They'd never talked much before. Maybe it was the age difference, or the fact that they only really had one thing in common. But it was more likely that something – _someone _– always seemed to come between them.

Still, they settled into a comfortable routine quickly.

He came home early one night to find her dancing to an old muggle song in the kitchen, rubber gloves on her hands and soapsuds up to her elbows even though the dishes were washing themselves.

She turns around in the middle of a pretty elaborate dance move only to stop suddenly as she notices him standing in the doorway, infamous Weasley blush colouring her cheeks.

"Don't stop on my account," he grins harder as her blush deepens, spreading from her hairline down to her chest. He follows it slowly with his eyes, smirk becoming more suggestive.

She laughs – more to cover the awkwardness only she is feeling than out of any real amusement – and pulls him in to dance with her, still obviously embarrassed but relaxing into the chorus until she's completely sure of herself once more.

He loves seeing her like this; looking stupidly beautiful even as he hair flew around her still-red face in tangled waves and she gets soap on his favourite t-shirt.

It feels like the most natural thing in the world to lean in and kiss her.

She must feel it, too.

But then they're both pulling back abruptly, panting slightly and eyes wide, each opening their mouth to speak.

They should put a stop to this before it really begins.

It's wrong.

People wouldn't understand.

Neither of them care.

It's much too late for that.

They say it anyway.

* * *

_I/You/We can't_.


End file.
